


Comfort In Your Heart

by alreadysomeone



Series: Worlds Apart - Comfort in Your Heart [2]
Category: JAG (TV 1995)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alreadysomeone/pseuds/alreadysomeone
Summary: Webb's POV for my fic "Worlds Apart."  Mac, Webb, Afghanistan, sharing quarters at the prisoner detention center ... you know the story.
Relationships: Sarah MacKenzie/Clayton Webb
Series: Worlds Apart - Comfort in Your Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982140





	Comfort In Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The song referenced is by Bruce Sprintsteen.  
> Timeline: Up through Tribunal. (Pardon the liberties I've taken with the plot/timeline)

Darya Bulkn Valley Detention Camp  
Afghanistan

Training can only teach you to mask your instincts, not shut them off. Trusting in intuition is vital, but the instruction you’re given insists you ignore the most human of your instincts.

The danger is that if you ignore your inner voice too often, you lose your humanity. You lose sight of why you’re there in the first place.

In the military and intelligence communities there’s a fine division between obeying your training and listening to your intuition. It’s a constant balancing act between nurturing your humanity and shutting it out.

One thing that no amount or quality of instruction can provide is the ability to rely on human connections. It’s more than using hand signals or reading someone’s body language. It’s placing complete trust in another person and trust in yourself that you’re making the right call based on your link with them.

That’s what happened earlier today with Mac and me; and my body is still buzzing from it. In the aftermath, I instantly felt the change in my blood chemistry - the immediate rush from the danger and accompanying spike in adrenaline.

I’d tried to play off my fear and subsequent relief, making every effort to be casual with Mac. But through the lengthy hours of interrogating the wounded prisoner, I knew we were both worn down from the day’s events.

Mac was at the center of it all and I could sense the hum of adrenaline coming from her, reading in her face the same physical exhaustion and wired mental state that I was in.

Since we were unable to return to the Seahawk, General Abdullah offered us a meal and showed us to our makeshift bunks for the night. The room isn’t the worst place I’ve ever slept, but it’s a moot point as I’m not sure sleep will be possible for me tonight.

In silence, Mac and I removed boots, jackets, and top layers of clothing to lie on the grimy floor, in the dusty, green sleeping bags. I close my eyes to block out the day but my mind is still reeling, unable to come to rest.

I don’t think sleep will come to Mac either. I feel her presence weighing heavily in the room. I’m also aware that it’s not my well-honed training telling me she’s wide awake, but something deeper between the two of us, leftover from the connection we shared earlier.

When she starts to turn over, I turn as well and the look in her eyes reflects back affirmation that the link is still there. We reach awkwardly for each other with soundless agreement of a need to come together physically, mirroring what we’re sensing emotionally.

As we embrace, I immediately feel her heart beating against my chest, and my heart responds the same way as we lie together.

Perhaps it should feel strange, but it doesn’t. We both know that all the usual rules are put on hold in wartime, especially in combat.

Mac and I are so very different in our daily lives. Yet there’s common ground between us. Always just below the surface, often hidden by personal or political agendas, but we still strive for the same overriding goals in our professional lives.

Here and now, our commonality is total as she and I express the need for comfort and solace that only we can provide for each other.

The feel of Mac against me is reassuring and there is no hesitation as we gently kiss. I feel her hair brushing my face and it stirs something in me; a growing need to somehow make tangible the mental connection that arced between us earlier.

I feel a similar shift in Mac’s demeanor, a subtle change in the way her body is making contact with mine. I let my tongue trace her lips and they part, allowing our tongues to caress and explore. The day and circumstances of our presence here are nearly blocked out by the enjoyment and intensity of our physical expressions.

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling for me. I’ve reveled in the touch of a woman amid conflict before. But I was younger, and naive about the intensity of emotions that war can create. Especially a war where innocents are caught in the crossfire of battles between sides for which they have no loyalty or love.

But here with Mac I have no wish to recapture the past. I am fully in the present where, for a time, we can take sanctuary in one another, finding comfort in simple physical pleasure.

I bring my hands up to caress her face and in spite of myself, I feel an anxious need rising in me to hold on to her, to not let the link between us break.

My desire inflamed, I shift, wanting to intertwine us further. She moves a leg over mine and I kiss her neck, tasting and touching more of her. I reach under her t-shirt and press my palm into the underside of her breast, teasing her nipple with my fingers.

I feel her flexing her hips against my thigh and our bodies are soon pressing together in a dual and instinctual movement of hips against hips. I can feel her core hot insistent on my thigh and my erection is straining against her groin.

I sense our mutual desire ramping up and bring my face close to hers to whisper questioningly, “Mac … Sarah?”

“Yes.”

It’s the only spoken communication we’ll have all night and it’s nearly unnecessary. With no doubts between us, we shift again, ready to fully give ourselves over to the physical act.  
Without awkwardness, we shed our remaining clothes and arrange the sleeping bags so that we’re atop one and covered by the other.

We come together again, relishing the feel of skin against skin. Our mental connection is now complemented by the physical. Comfort and pleasure sought between unlikely lovers. But Mac and I are open to each other in a way we’d never have guessed. I feel completely free with her.  
Free to express my desire and free to allow her access to my raw humanity in a way I’ve rarely let even other lovers experience. And from her I can feel the pleasure she’s taking in expressing her femininity and her most basic needs.

Kissing her breasts, I feel her hands in my hair as I continue to taste and touch her. I’m lost in the experience of pleasing her; drinking in her beauty and raw sexuality.

Finally I bring my body back up to hover above hers for another kiss, our tongues sliding over and over one another. I guide her legs even wider apart with my knee and press my cock against her moist sex. She angles her hips up, encouraging me and I push myself the rest of the way into her hot wetness.

Once coupled, I look down at her and she steadily holds my gaze. I let the intensity of the moment take over, and we simultaneously reach out to embrace as we establish a steady tempo with our hips.

We’re holding each other tight and close. I can feel her legs and inner muscles clenching rhythmically and it’s not long before I feel her climax squeezing all around me. As her pleasure subsides, I cling desperately to her and feel myself plunging over the edge as well.

We disengage our bodies only as much as necessary to lie comfortably together, sleep finally coming to our tired bodies and minds. Here in this private and isolated moment, we hold one another through the night.

END


End file.
